Walking Away While Pregnant: Dear Ex-Husband, I Don't Love You Anymore novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

At eleven in the morning, Dylan stepped out of a meeting room, having just finished a conference. Oliver Grant immediately approached him, lowering his voice.

"Madam is here."

Dylan paused mid-step. "Where?"

"In your office."

His brows lifted slightly.

After their argument that night, he had left for an overseas trip without delay. During that time, Elise hadn’t called him once.

Whenever they argued in the past, she would at least call him at home, urging him to return. This was the first time she had come directly to his company.

"...How does she seem?" he asked after a brief hesitation, his voice low.

Oliver recalled her appearance from earlier. "She looks... quite well."

A new hairstyle. Makeup. She looked good—almost radiant.

At that, the tension in Dylan’s brow eased slightly.

So she had figured things out. She must have come to make peace.

After all, she loved him that much—back then, she had even defied her parents to choose him, despite everyone thinking it was a mistake.

She wouldn’t be willing to divorce him.

The thought curved faintly at his lips.

"I see," Dylan said, his tone calm, his expression returning to its usual indifference. "Have someone go across the street and buy her favorite sea salt cake."

"Yes, sir."

...

The office door opened. Dylan walked in, dressed impeccably in his Armani suit.

Elise was sitting on the sofa, a cup of herbal tea in her hand. When she saw him, she slowly stood up.

Her eyes—rimmed red—locked straight onto him.

For a moment, Dylan was taken aback by her new hairstyle.

"You cut your hair?"

Elise ignored the question.

She stared at him, her mind replaying every word Quinn had said to her.

The emotions she had been forcing down clawed violently at the fragile thread of her restraint.

"Dylan... I have something to ask you."

Her voice was hoarse. As she spoke, her eyes grew redder, tears blurring her vision.

Dylan’s expression darkened, little by little.

Her state now was worse than when he had left the house that night.

So... she hadn’t come to reconcile.

The faint satisfaction he had felt vanished, replaced by irritation. His brows drew together as he walked to his desk.

He sat down, casually flipping open a file, reviewing it without even looking up.

"If you have something to say, you could have just called," he said coolly. "This is a company, not a place for you to come and vent your emotions."

But Elise didn’t stop.

Step by step, she walked toward him. When she reached the desk, she halted.

Lowering her gaze, tears slipped free.

Tap.

A heavy drop fell onto the polished surface.

Dylan’s hand stilled over the document.

Before he could react, her choked voice fell from above—

"Where are my children?"

His head snapped up.

Meeting her tear-filled eyes, his face turned cold. "Are you insane? What nonsense are you talking about now?"

"For my own good?" Elise wrenched her hands free and staggered back.

"For my own good, so you could have a child with Quinn right after mine were gone?" Her voice cracked, each word sharper than the last. "For my own good, so while I was grieving over their graves, you were celebrating the birth of another child with her?"

"What are you even saying?" Dylan’s tone hardened. "Robin is just a child. You shouldn’t take your anger out on him."

"I shouldn’t take it out on him..." Elise nodded, laughing through her tears as she wiped her face. "Then what about my children? Did they deserve to die?!"

Dylan fell silent.

"Dylan... do you know?" Her voice dropped, hollow and raw. "When I first found out you cheated and had another child, I was only mad at you."

Her gaze locked onto his. "But now... I hate you."

Something flickered in his eyes—shock, disbelief.

"You hate me?"

"Yes. I hate you." Her voice was steady now, stripped of everything but cold finality. "I’m divorcing you. You’re not worthy of being my child’s father—and my child will never acknowledge someone like you."

She turned and walked toward the door.

But after only a few steps, her vision went black.

"Elise!" Dylan lunged forward, catching her as her body went limp.

...

She was dreaming.

In the dream, someone was calling her Mom.

But this time, no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find her children.

Everything was shrouded in fog. Their voices echoed around her, calling again and again, and she ran—desperate, frantic—but it was all in vain.

"My child—!" Elise jolted awake, breathing hard.

The door opened. Dylan walked in, holding a glass of warm milk.

The moment she saw him, hatred surged into her eyes once more.